GEORGE STEINBRENNER CAN only smile when he reads the New York Times on August 8. FOR THE BOSS, A CHANGE FOR THE BETTER is the headline atop the column about the kinder, gentler Yankees owner, the latest in a season-long series of stories marveling at the new George. And this one carries the stamp of approval of two men who played for the Boss and are now on the front lines.
“It’s not like it was in the real needy days, where he was always being quoted in the papers and stuff,” coach Willie Randolph says. “His opinion is obviously strong… but it seems he’s really listening to what Joe and Bob need and want.”
Bob Watson agrees. “He has mellowed,” says George’s 12th GM. “During the interview process he said he was not going to be involved in a lot of the decision-making process and, for the most part, he hasn’t.”
All of which would be fine… if it were true.
But it’s not.
This is: George is still George, only wiser. Instead of regularly howling in the media, Steinbrenner has stayed behind the scenes, focusing his rants almost exclusively on one man—Watson, whose life he’s made a living hell since the day they locked horns over Strawberry.
What makes this especially maddening for Watson is there’s so little reason for Steinbrenner to complain, given what his team’s accomplished in the face of unrelenting adversity. First there was Cone’s surgery. A month later Bernie Williams’ 5-year-old son had lifesaving surgery to stop a rapidly spreading ear infection. Torre’s 64-year-old brother Frank has been battling serious heart problems since May, and his 68-year-old brother Rocco died of a heart attack at home on June 21 while watching a Yankees game.
With all that, the Yanks reach the All-Star break at a league-best 52–33 and hold a six-game lead over Baltimore in the AL East. Torre coaxes a breakout season from the introverted Williams, who reaches midseason hitting .326 with 16 home runs. Andy Pettitte is 13–4, and Rivera allows only 38 hits and strikes out 70 in 60 innings. “I just know this team is going to the World Series,” says the normally reserved Rivera.
It sure looks that way after the Yankees open the second half with a four-game sweep of the Orioles. Steinbrenner did indeed sign Strawberry, and it’s Straw’s walk-off, two-run homer that beats the Royals on July 28. The win pushes New York’s AL East lead to a season-best 12 games.
Watson pulls off a coup three days later, sending malcontent Ruben Sierra to Detroit for Cecil Fielder. Big Daddy has 26 home runs and gives Torre the right-handed bat he’s wanted since spring training. Fielder’s so happy to join New York that he agrees to defer $2 million of the $7.2 million he’s set to earn next season to finalize the trade.
But none of this has stopped Steinbrenner from calling Watson two, three, four or more times a day to criticize whichever player he thought was coming up short. Why did Bernie throw to the wrong base? Why didn’t O’Neill reach a bloop single to right? How could Bob Wickman blow another save? Steinbrenner wanted this player benched, or that player sent to Columbus, or every coach fired at one time or another.
George is calling Torre, too, though Watson does his best to shield his manager and players from most of Steinbrenner’s outbursts. But there’s little Watson can do to fend off George when an injury to John Wetteland in mid-August and a trade gone bad sends the team into a tailspin.
Steinbrenner first turns up the volume after left-handed reliever Graeme Lloyd, acquired from the Brewers, reveals he received a cortisone shot for elbow tendinitis four days before the August 23 trade. That may explain why the six-foot-eight Australian has been hammered for 10 runs in his last five appearances.
The Yankees lose 26 of 44 games, chopping their 12-game lead over Baltimore to four, and the Boss needs someone to blame. So he tells Watson his job is on the line unless Lloyd rebounds. He tells reporters the team’s playoff hopes all rest on Torre. He singles out Kenny Rogers, who’s 0–3 with a 14.13 ERA in his last three starts: “They’ll fry him in New York if he keeps that up.”
And then he goes after his friend in Milwaukee.
“There are paths in baseball to settle these things, but it’s difficult when the Commissioner owns the other team,” Steinbrenner says. “I’m for Selig keeping the job. I never thought it would come to the point where it bothered me, but it has become a concern.”
George is momentarily pacified when Cone returns in spectacular fashion on September 2, throwing seven no-hit innings in Oakland before Torre lifts him. But the Yankees lose three of their next six, slicing their lead over Baltimore to 2½ games on September 11. And that’s when a New Jersey paper cites a “source in the Yankee organization” saying that Watson “is already out of here.”
The story touches off the kind of media frenzy that Watson and Torre have avoided all season. “It doesn’t surprise me that he would do this, but it surprises me that he would leak it without telling me,” says Watson, who sees Steinbrenner’s fingerprints all over the newspaper report. “I hope he would be enough of a man about it to come and tell me.”
Speculation over the fates of both Watson and Torre fill the media for a full seven days while Steinbrenner privately tells each man everything they’ve done will be wiped away if they don’t win the division. Then George provides a bizarre twist at the Stadium on September 18, the opening night of a pivotal three-game series with the Orioles. He walks into the clubhouse a few hours before the game and asks reporters to gather around.
With his players looking on, the Boss has an announcement to make:
Joe Torre will be back next year, Steinbrenner says, no matter what happens the rest of this season. “I like everything he’s done,” he says. “There’s no reason not to tell him to relax and he’ll be back.”
When Steinbrenner pauses, he’s asked about Watson, who, like Torre, has a guaranteed contract through next season. “I can only jump one hurdle at a time,” says George.
It’s their young shortstop who shows how to quiet the owner. Jeter scores the winning run in the 10th inning of the first game against Baltimore. One day later, he singles to knock in the first two runs of a 9–3 win, stretching his hitting streak to 11 games and restoring order in the Bronx.
So much for that .240 bar Torre set for the rookie in March.
The division clincher comes four days later in the first game of a doubleheader in Milwaukee. The Yankees score four in the 1st and 10 in the second en route to a 19–2 win and their first AL East title since 1981. Torre remains in the dugout, tears streaming down his face, while the players rush the field to join the celebration at the pitching mound.
“I got very choked up,” Torre says in his office between games. “At this stage of my career—which I thought was over last year—this could be the start of my greatest experience in baseball.”
Torre touts the performances of his many veterans, then pauses before talking about the two players who truly changed the team. Rivera, the pitcher he wanted to trade, will soon finish an astonishing season: an 8–3 record, 130 strikeouts, and just 73 hits in 107⅔ innings. Then there’s Jeter, whose final line—.314, 10 home runs, 78 RBI, 104 runs scored—will earn him Rookie of the Year honors.
“No question,” Torre says. “Derek Jeter and Mariano Rivera were our biggest X factors.”
Torre doesn’t discuss his boss, but Steinbrenner’s role—his late-season antics notwithstanding—cannot be overlooked. It was Steinbrenner who gave Watson and Gene Michael the money to build much of this team in December. He opened his wallet again to bring in Fielder, who hit 13 home runs in 53 games. He gave second chances to Dwight Gooden, who threw a no-hitter in May, and to Strawberry, who’s been a model citizen while contributing 11 homers as a role player.
Yes, he pounded on Watson so much the writers joked about adding “Beleaguered” to the GM’s name. But unlike in past seasons, Steinbrenner did not derail his team. He’s eagerly waiting for the playoffs, even as he keeps his eye on the revenue sharing battle still being waged between the small market owners and the players union. He’s already told his business staff that they must come up with ways to make back whatever revenue the Yankees are certain to lose in any new labor agreement.
George is convinced he’s done his part. Now his team just has to win it all.
Steinbrenner is a one-man welcoming committee before Game 1 of the American League Championship Series, walking the corridors of the Stadium in his standard blue blazer, white turtleneck, and gray slacks, greeting fans and signing autographs. He even helps one young woman find her seat.
“Hey, that’s a nice owner,” shouts a fan.
“Hey, she’s a nice-looking girl,” George shouts back.
Fan after fan stops to thank him for bringing a winner back to the city, and George beams. The Boss has brought the swagger back to New York, and right now he can do no wrong.
Even two ugly incidents in the AL Division Series win over Texas put little more than a few small dents in George’s new public image. With his team on its way to a 6–2 loss in the opening game at the Stadium, Steinbrenner left his box, found the Rangers wives, and chastised them for celebrating too boisterously. “People in the other box couldn’t see, we asked them not to ruin it for everyone else,” he told Dallas reporters, who criticized him sharply. The next day he started a petty argument with Reggie Jackson on the team bus to the airport. The fight escalated into such an angry exchange that Joe Torre and Willie Randolph had to pull Reggie away from George, and the story received wide play.
But Bernie Williams (.467) and Derek Jeter (.412) helped engineer two come-from-behind wins in Texas to take the series, and all is forgiven and forgotten.
Steinbrenner is every bit as excitable for the first game of the ALCS. He sees Steve Palermo, the umpire turned motivational speaker after he was shot and injured stopping a robbery five years ago, and insists Steve and his wife watch the game from the owner’s box. He gets a hug from talk show host Regis Philbin when he enters his box, and escorts the wife and daughter of the late Yankees catcher Elston Howard to their seats. He shakes hands with Robert Merrill, the former opera star who has just sung the national anthem. The Yankees are playing for a ticket to the World Series, and all is right in Steinbrenner’s world.
“This is where we should be,” he says.
George is delighted when the Yankees jump out to an early 2–1 lead, but it doesn’t last. Brady Anderson, who slugged 50 home runs during the regular season—nine more than his last three seasons combined—rifles a homer into the right-field seats in the 3rd to tie the game 2–2. Andy Pettitte coughs up the lead on another solo shot by Rafael Palmeiro in the 4th.
The Yankees trail 4–3 in the 8th, and Steinbrenner is in his box fretting. But his rookie shortstop walks calmly to the plate and lofts the first pitch he sees from Armando Benitez to right field, where it bounces off the top of the fence and into the stands for a game-tying home run. Or so it seems. Replays show what veteran umpire Richie Garcia failed to see: the ball deflected off the glove worn by a 12-year-old named Jeffrey Maier and bounced into the stands.
The Orioles argue, but to no avail, and the run stands. Two innings later Bernie Williams wallops a no-doubt-about-it home run to left, and the Yankees have the victory. “Do I feel bad?” says Jeter when asked about Garcia’s call in the postgame interview room. “We won the game. Why should I feel bad?”
The Orioles win Game 2, but the Yankees sweep the next three games in Camden Yards to win their first pennant since 1978. Williams, blossoming into a truly dominant player, hits .474 with a pair of home runs and six RBI and is named MVP. Jeter hits .417 and seems to ignite every big Yankees inning.
Steinbrenner left Baltimore before Game 5. He wants others on center stage, so it’s his younger son Hal on the TV podium with Torre and Watson. Hal, who worked hard on the family’s hotel business this season in order to stay out of his father’s line of fire, is still on the podium when Wade Boggs sneaks up and pours Champagne over his head. The 26-year-old blinks and laughs.
Sitting quietly off by himself is Mariano Rivera, who has yet to allow a run in 8⅔ innings over four postseason games. “I’m just sitting here meditating and thanking God for what we’ve done,” he tells a reporter. “Because He helped us do it.”
Many feel Steinbrenner’s team will need divine intervention to beat the Braves, who three days later club the Cardinals, 15–0, to win a thrilling seven-game NLCS. The oddsmakers install the defending champs as heavy favorites: the Yankees are a nice team, everyone agrees, but the Braves are making their fourth trip to the Series in the last five full seasons, a budding dynasty with the perfect blend of youth and veterans, power hitting and superb pitching.
All but one Braves regular finished the regular season with 10 or more home runs, and the heart of the order—Chipper Jones (30 homers), Fred McGriff (28), and Ryan Klesko (34)—is arguably the game’s best. But it’s pitching that truly makes the Braves special. Greg Maddux is the game’s best pitcher, the winner of his league’s last four Cy Young Awards. Left-hander Tom Glavine won the award in ’91 and has three 20-win seasons on his résumé. John Smoltz, who won 24 games and struck out 276 this season, is certain to be Atlanta’s sixth straight Cy Young winner. Closer Mark Wohlers and his 99 mph fastball leads a bullpen that can match New York in depth and strikeouts.
It’s hard to know if Steinbrenner is bluffing or a believer when he warns everyone not to take his team lightly. “I believe we have a good chance of upsetting these fellas,” he says. “This is not the first time we’ve been the underdog. I like lying in the weeds.”
But Watson and Torre know better. Steinbrenner is a world-class worrier in need of constant reassurance, a man who panics at the first sign of trouble. And plenty goes wrong in Game 1. The Braves are up 8–0 after three, with Andruw Jones slugging a pair of home runs, rendering the rest of the 12–1 debacle an afterthought. Except for Watson, who is wondering why the Yankees threw fastballs to Jones when their scouting report stressed never to throw the 19-year-old a fastball for a strike.
It’s the first question he asks Torre as soon as the game mercifully ends. Torre shrugs and calls in catcher Jim Leyritz, who explains he thought they could trick Jones.
“Did you think you could trick him twice?” Watson says.
“Yeah, I did,” Leyritz says.
The player leaves his manager’s office, and Watson looks at Torre. “You know George is going to ask what happened, and I’m going to have to tell him the truth,” Watson says. Torre nods, and sure enough, when Steinbrenner finds Watson, he demands answers. When Watson tells him Leyritz ignored the scouting report, George erupts.
“I spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on scouting, and your dumbass players don’t follow instructions!” he bellows. “I want Leyritz traded. Right now!”
Watson remains calm. “George, it’s after midnight; we can’t trade him,” he says. “Besides, we can’t replace him on the roster. That would leave us with 24 players and one catcher.”
“I don’t care!” Steinbrenner snaps back. “I want you to trade him!”
“Look, we’ll trade him as soon as the World Series is over,” says Watson, who will ship Leyritz to the Angels six weeks after the Series. “And we’ll make sure to follow the scouting reports.”
Steinbrenner storms out, and he’s no calmer when he walks back into Torre’s office before Game 2. He’s also worried and embarrassed. “This is a must-win; it’s a must-win!” he keeps repeating. “What are you going to do?”
Torre calmly searches for something to tame Steinbrenner’s temper, and he finds a gem. “Hey, we’ll probably lose tonight, too, George,” he says, barely looking up from his lineup card. “But Atlanta’s my town. We’ll sweep them there and win it back home.”
Caught off guard, Steinbrenner pauses before speaking again. “Are you sure?” he says. “I don’t know. Really? Okay, but are you sure?”
Maddux and the Braves win Game 2 in dominant fashion, 4–0. The Yankees have been outscored 16–1, and now George isn’t the only one who’s embarrassed. The clubhouse boys tell Game 3 starter David Cone and a few other Yankees that the Braves are whooping it up in their clubhouse, acting as if the Series is already over.
“It’s like we’re a prop,” Cone tells a few friends as the team prepares to fly to Atlanta.
Game 3 is a reprieve: Williams homers and knocks in three runs, and Cone and the bullpen keep the Braves in check for a 5–2 win. But that’s soon forgotten the next night, when Atlanta jumps out to a 5–0 lead after three innings. The Braves are up 6–3 and are five outs from taking a 3–1 Series lead with Wohlers on the mound and two runners on base. In steps Leyritz for his first at bat since being benched after Game 1. The Yankees catcher works the count to 2–1, then fouls back two straight 99 mph fastballs.
Seeing that Leyritz has his fastball timed, Wohlers throws a slider, and the entire Series pivots. Wohlers hangs the pitch, and Leyritz sends it sailing well over the left-field wall. The three-run homer energizes the Yankees, who all rush out of the dugout to greet Leyritz, and drains the life from the Braves. And when the Yankees piece together a pair of runs in the 10th on a bases loaded walk and an error, the Series is tied.
Standing in the Yankees clubhouse after the game, Steinbrenner gushes about everyone in a New York uniform. He calls the homer by Leyritz the biggest of the season. He praises Graeme Lloyd, who got McGriff to ground into a double play to end the 9th and is credited with the win.
“Did I lose hope? No,” says George. “You never lose hope with these guys. We’ll do okay tomorrow with Andy Pettitte. Just you watch.”
Pettitte is better than okay, throwing 8⅓ shutout innings to outduel Smoltz, 1–0. The Yankees head back to New York with a chance to do what only two other teams in history have ever done: win four straight World Series games after losing the first two. Starting pitcher Jimmy Key asks his girlfriend Karin Kane to marry him before leaving for the game, then goes out and holds the Braves to one run in 5⅓ innings. The Yankees support Key with three runs in the 3rd, and the Stadium starts rocking and never stops.
Rivera blows away the Braves for two innings, then hands the game over to Wetteland. There are two outs and runners on first and second when Wetteland runs the count to 3–2 on Mark Lemke. The Stadium is literally shaking, with all 56,375 fans on their feet, shouting and clapping, as Lemke fouls a ball toward Charlie Hayes. The third baseman drifts under the pop-up, squeezes it in his glove, and it’s pandemonium in the Bronx.
Every Yankees player and coach rushes the mound, which is soon a pile of hugging, laughing, and crying men in pinstriped uniforms. Torre finds Leyritz, the only player left from the team that lost 95 games six years ago, and asks him to lead the team on a victory lap around the Stadium. The fans, who are hugging, laughing, and crying as well, cheer as the champs jog around the field while police on horseback set up around the field. Wade Boggs hops aboard a horse and takes one lap around the Stadium before being the last Yankee to leave the field.
Atlanta manager Bobby Cox stops to hug his friend Torre before walking into the hushed Braves clubhouse, where his players struggle to explain what happened to them the last five days. General manager John Schuerholz says he knows. The difference between the two teams, Schuerholz says, is the $18 million Steinbrenner spent on bench players.
There is only joy and more tears in the packed Yankees clubhouse. Watson stands in one end of the room, his wife Carol at his side, relieved and satisfied. The manager he wanted and the club he helped build have won the Yankees’ 23rd World Series title. There were days when Steinbrenner all but crushed his spirit, but the Boss also gave him the money and freedom to bring in the players he needed all season, with seven of the 25 men on the field tonight arriving after June 11.
He’s asked if he’ll be back next year. “That’s up to Mr. Steinbrenner,” answers Watson. “It’s been a tough road,” he concedes, but he’s proud to be the game’s first minority general manager to win the World Series. He admits he’s exhausted, saying all he wants to do now is “smoke a cigar, drink some Champagne, and enjoy this.” And with that he walks out of the clubhouse, ending the night without speaking a word to the man who employs him.
That man has been practically babbling ever since the game ended. “Great, great, these guys deserve it, and so does the city of New York,” Steinbrenner keeps repeating as he crisscrosses the crowded clubhouse. “This city never gives up, and neither did these guys. This is great, great.”
Tears stream down Steinbrenner’s face as Selig hands him the championship trophy as the TV cameras roll. Selig is choked up, too. The two men have grown up together in this game, and Selig is truly happy for his friend. “I have been the one constant in his baseball life since 1973, the one who brought him back from suspension,” says Selig, forgetting that it was Fay Vincent who ended George’s ban. “After all we’ve been through together, it’s a very emotional moment for both of us.”
What Selig doesn’t mention is the yelling match he had with Don Fehr only hours earlier in an office adjoining Steinbrenner’s box. The issue: baseball’s unsettled labor deal. George knew about that heated exchange. He also knows that no matter what kind of deal Selig eventually gets, it is certain to cost him a large chunk of money.
And that’s not lost on Steinbrenner, even on this night. George spent $67 million by season’s end building this team, but he’s sure you have to spend money to make money, and there’s a lot of money to be made now. He has a talented team filled with marketable players like Cone, O’Neill, and Williams. And it’s already clear that Jeter and Rivera will be truly special players.
No, this isn’t the time for Steinbrenner to pull back. There’s a new stadium to be built, a new TV deal just a few years away, and sponsors lining up to be paired with his attractive young stars. This team is going to make Steinbrenner a lot more money—and even more famous.
Atlanta’s Schuerholz and everyone else in baseball can complain all they want.
George has only just begun to spend.